Wishing on Paper Stars
by RobanCrow
Summary: A collection of short Wizardess Heart fics featuring a whole lot of my favorite boy and my go-to OC for these games. Azusa x Morgan, hehe.
1. Doodle Date

Note. This installment is way outdated, it's been on tumblr for over a year already, and I don't know anymore if Morgan outta be an artist. But I still like this for what it is. :3

* * *

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the boughs above them. Morgan sank into Azusa's lap. It had become the most natural thing, to share the stump and some peace and quiet in the Northern Valley Forest.

"What the heck have you got in here? Bricks?" Azusa grasped at Morgan's handbag and lifted it from between them with feigned strain.

Morgan grabbed for the bag, but their reach didn't compare to his as he held it away. "Textbooks."

"You don't need to bring textbooks out here, stupid."

"And a novel and stuff." Morgan leveled a glare at Azusa, sticking their tongue out at him.

The moment their tongue retreated, he planted a kiss in its place.

"And anyway," Morgan huffed, ignoring the pink filling their cheeks and the smug grin in front of them. "Who came to get me right after class, idiot?"

"You could have left them in your desk."

Morgan glared, the pink growing redder, and Azusa's grin darkened. They turned about in his lap and faced away.

Azusa leaned against their back. "It isn't really textbooks-" Morgan's heart leapt at the shock of his hot breath on their ear. "-is it?"

Morgan covered their face with their hands, muttering, "Shut up."

Azusa wrapped his arms around Morgan and set the bag on their lap. "So are you gonna show me what's in there?"

"Nope."

Azusa buried his face in the ends of Morgan's hair. Their nape prickled with goosebumps where his lips touched, again and again, traveling slowly upwards. Morgan squirmed against his hold, shrugging away before he could reach the shell of their ear.

"I think you should show me," he insisted.

"I think n-ah!"

Azusa's fingers crawled beneath the hem of Morgan's top, gingerly grazing whatever skin they could reach. Morgan writhed. Their handbag went crashing to the ground. A squeak escaped their throat when the chill of his fingers brushed against their belly, and they fervently grasped at his arms to pull them away.

"Stop!"

Azusa redoubled his grip on Morgan without regard for how far up his hands had wandered. "Will you show me now?"

"I'll headbutt you now if you don't let me go!"

"I'll take my chances," he said, his devilish smile not lost in his voice.

With an indignant huff, Morgan crossed their arms and sulked.

Gradually, Azusa's hold eased. He rested his chin on Morgan's shoulder. Morgan lay their head back against him, too, unfolding their arms and grudgingly relishing in the reprieve.

It grew too quiet. Morgan's ears were ringing. Azusa's arms closed firmly around them again, this time squeezing earnestly. It kept him still but failed to hide the shudder underlying his breaths.

Fearing Azusa's thoughts had drifted to darker places, Morgan answered, "It's a sketchbook."

"Huh?"

"In my bag," they clarified, "a sketchbook and pencilcase."

"Now you have to show me," Azusa stated, though he made no effort to release Morgan.

Morgan peeled his arms away, not meeting much resistance, and got up to collect their handbag. After popping the buckles and rummaging about inside, they pulled out the book and inspected its cover. With a shrug, they passed it to Azusa and mumbled, "It's just doodles."

He smiled briefly, turning over the cover and glancing at the pages.

"There's not much in it, either," Morgan added dismissively. They knelt over their bag and arranged its jumbled contents back into place. The textbooks, a novel, a clipboard, and a thick tin case filled with pencils and held together with a hairband.

Azusa stopped on a scene, a student with pigtails sitting at her desk with her head resting in her arms. She was sound asleep. "Who is she?"

"Just a girl in my class."

"You were drawing in class?" Azusa snickered.

"What! I finished my homework; I had time," Morgan grumbled. "It was too early to wait for you."

He turned the page again, and found the next one blank. He flipped quickly through the remaining pages. There was nothing more. "You weren't kidding, there really isn't much in here."

"I just got it in town the other day."

"We should fill it," Azusa concluded.

"We?" Morgan asked, eyeing him skeptically. "You draw?"

Azusa shook his head and handed the sketchbook back to them. "No, but you could draw me."

Morgan frowned. "I'm not gonna draw you."

"Fine," he said. He snatched the sketchbook back. "I'll draw you, then."

"But you just said you can't draw."

"I can't, but I'm going to," he insisted. "Give me a pencil."

"No."

Seeing him reach for their bag, Morgan grabbed it and skipped back a step from the stump. Not missing a beat, Azusa pulled a pen from his pocket, grinning wickedly.

"Oh, come on!" Morgan whined.

He had already etched a few lines onto the page. They set their hands on their hips and waited. He wouldn't spend more than a minute on it. They'd be surprised if it was the result of his scribbling was anything more than a glorified stick figure.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning the sketchbook to them and holding it up for them to see.

It was exactly what they had expected, with some vague likeness of their hair and uniform, and a grumpy expression. "Very nice, idiot," they lied. "Now give me back my book."

He held the sketchbook back in his lap. "I'm doing another one," he declared.

Morgan rolled their eyes, shaking their head dismissively. _Riiiiip._ Their attention snapped back to the little devil in front of them. He held out a blank sheet from the back of the book, torn from the binding.

"Draw with me."

Morgan snatched the paper away. "You didn't have to tear it out!"

"Just shut up and draw."

Morgan pressed their lips together. They strode back up beside Azusa, parked their rear with their back to his flank on the only available edge of the stump. With a hefty shove, they sent him sprawling to the ground.

"What was that for?" he spat.

Morgan glanced over their shoulder, a cheshire smile dividing their face clean in two. That was the only answer they deigned to give him.

Azusa sat up, brushing himself off, and resumed doodling. The wicked grin was gone, though the scowl in its place didn't complement his features any better.

Morgan pulled the clipboard and pencils out of their handbag and set to drawing, too.

The quiet that overcame them was not as thick as earlier. The scritching of pencil and pen on paper, the quiet sighs, it was almost comfortable. Almost, as Azusa still held Morgan's sketchbook hostage.

It was ten minutes later when Morgan hugged the clipboard in alarm. Azusa held the sketchbook in front of their face, his arms around them from both sides and his chest leaning against their back.

Morgan stared at the crude sketch in front of them. It wasn't a stick figure. Stick figures didn't have curves like that. Stick figures didn't have a chest like that, either. Anomalies aside, the resemblance was still distinctly theirs.

They swatted at him with their clipboard. "What makes you think I look anything like that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Azusa scoffed, flipping the page. On the next one was a masculine figure, and the most well-endowed Morgan had ever seen. Of course, still otherwise bearing their likeness. "Better?"

"No!" Morgan whacked him with the clipboard again.

They glared after him as he plopped back onto the ground behind them. That wicked grin had returned. Azusa flipped the page, and started anew. Morgan grudgingly did the same.

The next interruption came as less of a surprise. "Look," Azusa said, sliding the sketchbook into their line of sight.

Morgan glanced at it beneath their work in progress - "Pfft!" - and promptly dropped the clipboard to cover their eyes.

"What do you think?" he asked, nudging them playfully.

"Azusa!" they squeaked between giggles.

He leaned closer, and drawled, "Do you _like_ it?"

"Why!"

"You _like_ it," he whispered.

"Why would you do that!" Morgan shoved him away, but the sketchbook remained in their lap.

The alien figure stared up at them, with every detail of Morgan Azusa had bothered to put into everything else, but also with its seven extra eyes, and horns protruding from its head and shoulders, and tentacles for limbs.

It hadn't occurred to Morgan until they returned to their work in progress that where the sketchbook now sat was where the clipboard should have been. They glanced under the sketchbook and around their feet, but where they ultimately found it should have been no surprise.

"You weren't supposed to look," they grumbled. "I wasn't finished yet."

Azusa's attention was fixed on the drawing in his grasp. His lips pursed, but no words followed.

The shapes were imperfect, the eyes too big and the shoulders not nearly broad enough. But the likeness was uncanny. His brow knotted, and a lopsided smile stretched across his face. He laughed. The longer he looked at it, the more he could have been looking at his own reflection, the face of someone who had forgotten how to smile for too long and could no longer quite get it right.

He shoved the clipboard back atop the sketchbook in Morgan's lap. He inched closer and reclined against their legs. He didn't want to draw anymore, and Morgan had had enough for now, too. They folded the sketchbook shut around the clipboard and stuffed them both back into their handbag.

"I still look like an idiot," Azusa muttered, his smile growing broader in spite of himself.

"Of course. You are an idiot." Morgan curled an arm around his shoulders. "You're _my_ idiot."


	2. Not Ready

Azusa tapped firmly before opening the door to the dorm room he and Randy shared. Morgan glanced to the ends of the hall for any witnesses before ducking in after him.

"I'm home," Azusa called, already peeling off the cloak and jacket of his uniform.

There was no answer. He weaved ahead though the darkness and turned on the lamp by his bed.

Morgan eased the door shut and glanced around, taking pointed interest in what the light had revealed. "I thought you said Randy would be here."

"I said he didn't have plans," Azusa corrected. "What he does with his time isn't my concern."

Morgan nodded idly.

"Were you hoping to see him?" he teased. "Is that why you came?"

"Of course," Morgan said, flashing Azusa a cheeky grin.

They edged closer to him, fixated on the stark contrast between the sides of the room. On the far end was Azusa's disheveled but plain bedding, and a few garments tossed carelessly at the trunk of personal effects. But nearest to Morgan were colorful bedsheets and a mountain of stuffed toys spilling off of the other bed.

Azusa had mentioned this about Randy before, but Morgan had no idea Randy's collection was so impressive. Many of them were teddies, and there were more than a few bunnies, but Morgan also spied a few other animals. One of them, a cat, had such long, soft-looking faux-fur... They couldn't bite back the smile lighting up their features, and stepped towards the mountain of toys in wonder.

"Do you think he'd mind?"

Asuza positioned himself between Morgan and the mountain, reaching out to redirect them. "I think I would mind if you slept in his bed and not mine."

Morgan's gaze lifted from where the mountain had been, briefly meeting his as he spun them about and let his arm sink around their shoulders instead.

"Fine," they huffed, "but would he mind if I borrowed one?"

The pair sat down on the edge of Azusa's bed. The moment Azusa removed his arm from around their shoulders, Morgan lay back across the disheveled sheets. His scent lingered in the folds, and Morgan's heart skipped a beat.

Azusa leaned over them, propping himself up above them on his arms. "What do you want one for?"

"It looks soft and I wanna cuddle it," Morgan said, grinning.

"You look soft," Azusa replied, leaning farther down. He was close enough that they could feel his breath.

Morgan craned their neck towards him, touching the tip of their nose to his. "Kisses aren't cuddles."

Azusa inched back, pressing his lips together like he was hiding a scowl. He instead buried his face in the crook of Morgan's neck, letting the full of his weight smother them. His fingers wove their way into the thick of Morgan's hair. Morgan chuckled and curled their arms around him.

Azusa nuzzled at them until he exposed their neck between their jaw and the collar of their shirt. He suckled lightly where his lips made contact.

Morgan lifted their knees and rested their feet on the edge of the bed. Grasping at his back, they hugged him closer as if reducing the space between them would hinder his efforts.

"Something wrong?" he cooed, his serpentine smirk branding Morgan's skin.

Morgan sighed. "It's too hot in here."

Azusa leaned back, easing his weight off of them. "Then maybe you should take off a layer or two."

"I'm only wearing two."

Azusa's smirk broadened. The distance between them was enough now that Morgan could get their arms between them and shove him aside. He rolled off with little resistance and stared absently at the ceiling.

Even without his warmth, Morgan felt flush and shrugged out of their uniform jacket. They leaned over Azusa to cast it atop his effects on the trunk. They weren't wearing the vest beneath it, just the dress shirt. Before they could pull away, Azusa set his hands on their hips and held Morgan there above him. A shiver crawled beneath their skin, away from the heat of his palms.

"I'm a little warm, too," he confessed.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed. "You're pretty hot."

Azusa's twisted smirk returned.

"You know what I meant!" Morgan huffed, dismissing the red trying to creep across their face.

"Yeah, I think I'm pretty hot, too," he said, raising his brow. "Maybe you could help cool me off?"

"Huh?"

"Could you unbutton my shirt for me?" He schooled his smirk into the most benign smile he could manage.

It looked worse than the smirk, and Morgan laughed inwardly at the attempt. They sat astride his hips and reached for the button second from the top - the first already undone - but left their hands to rest on his chest instead. "Now why should I do that?"

Azusa's fingers crawled like spiders beneath the loose hem of their shirt towards Morgan's waist. They should have tucked it in. The grazing of his fingers grew progressively lighter.

Morgan put on a frown and popped the second button.

His fingers stopped, and his smile stopped pretending it could pass for benign. It was only a brief pause before his fingers resumed their delicate crawl, and Morgan began to squirm at the tickle in his touch.

They popped the third button.

Azusa shifted beneath them, his shirt easing open just enough to tease them. Morgan bit their lips together, reinforcing their frown and denying him the laughter bubbling in their throat. There wasn't a pause this time. His hands slipped higher and came to rest on their waist.

They popped a fourth button.

Azusa's thumbs grazed above Morgan's waistline.

Morgan froze. "Wait-"

Easing back into motion, his hands climbed farther.

"Stop."

"Hm~?" Those hands were still going.

"Azusa, stop!"

They gripped his arms and shoved them down against the bed. His reach stunted, his hands lingered again near Morgan's hips.

He glared up from where he lay. "What's the matter with you?"

"I said stop!" Morgan cried.

"Why?" Azusa huffed. "I thought we were having fun."

"Yeah, we were," Morgan said. "Until you went too far and didn't listen, so I'm done."

Azusa let his hands fall to the bedding beneath them. "Fine."

Morgan eased one leg after the other off the bed. Once standing, they let go and turned about-face.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," Morgan muttered, marching towards the door, "back to my room, where I'm supposed to be?"

"You don't have to leave," Azusa grumbled after them.

They continued regardless. They were past the mountain and a few steps from the door.

"Morgan." Azusa sighed. "Don't leave."

Morgan took a deep breath, tempering their nerves. When they were sure they could face him squarely, they turned back around. Azusa was still in bed, sitting up, two of the buttons popped had been done up again. There was no trace of mischief left, though they knew altogether too well that he could change face at a moment's notice. They kept their distance, more than half the room apart from him.

Azusa leaned forward to stand, and Morgan took another step towards the door. He sank back down, slouching on the edge of his bed. He extended his arm - Morgan flinched - and gestured to the bed across from his.

"Sit down."

"I thought you didn't want to see me in his bed," they challenged.

"Yeah, but," Azusa conceded, "I doubt he's coming back tonight, and I would rather see you in his bed than walking out that door."

They glanced from the colorful bed to the door and back.

"Morgan, please."

Morgan pressed their lips together. They trudged over and lowered themself onto the edge of Randy's bed farthest from where Azusa sat, keeping the mountain of stuffed toys between the two of them. They collected the long-furred cat plush that they had spotted earlier, curling around the toy, and studied the other stuffed toys with feigned interest.

"Why did we stop?" he asked.

Morgan's tongue flicked between their lips, weighing the consequences of their answer.

"You looked like you wanted it as much as I did," Azusa added.

"I did," Morgan said. "I do."

"So what did I do wrong?"

"You went too far."

Azusa folded his arms across his lap and stared in Morgan's direction. "In what way did I go too far?"

"I didn't want you to-" Morgan glanced downward sheepishly. "-feel anything."

"If we're gonna fool around, it can't stay a secret forever."

Morgan glared accusingly at Azusa. "I wish it could."

"Why would you want that?"

Morgan clutched the cat plush.

"What are you afraid of?" Azusa asked. "Whatever you've got in there or _down_ there isn't gonna change anything."

"Can you promise me that?"

"I can promise you'll still be a goof."

"I mean it!" Morgan insisted. "Promise me that you won't treat me differently, that you won't get it _wrong_ , that you won't _tell_ anyone."

Azusa snorted. "Who am I gonna tell? Randy?"

"Azusa!"

"It's not like I talk to anyone else," he said.

Morgan pressed their lips together. He didn't. He roomed with Randy, he conferenced occasionally with the prefect and the headmaster relating to the too-lax punishment for his crimes, and them. What would he gain from alienating the one person with whom contact was entirely voluntary?

"You don't have to worry about it, Morgan. That's the one thing I got right, even when-" He shook his head and looked away, grinning wryly. "-even when I was 'asshole of the year.'"

Morgan let out a bark of laughter, and clapped their hands over their mouth. That was the first time they had heard him call _himself_ that. The smile cracking beneath their best efforts to hide it could not be wrestled back into a scowl. Azusa straightened and stared squarely at Morgan. Morgan looked away, stifling a giggle.

"Can I come over there?" Azusa asked.

Morgan nodded. "Can you turn off the light?"

He did as they requested and darkness overtook the room. He crawled onto the edge of Randy's bed opposite Morgan, cupping their smiling cheeks in his palms and leaning in for a chaste kiss.

* * *

Morgan lay snuggled up against Azusa's back, arms curled around him and nose nuzzling between his shoulderblades.

"So, ah..." Morgan mulled, "what are you _hoping_ to find down there?"

Azusa frowned pensively. He rolled over in their arms, the blue of his eyes lost in the darkness but still searching for the grey of theirs. "You remember that day we were drawing together?"

"Yeah." Morgan stared intently back.

"The last one-"

"The one with the tentacles."

Azusa grinned. " _That's_ the one."

Morgan's expression soured, and seconds later Azusa found himself on the floor.


	3. Konpeito

The door to their dorm room clicked open, and Morgan swallowed whole the konpeito on their tongue. They cupped the pocketwatch in their palms and swallowed again to force the candy down.

"Hey Emmett," they greeted, keeping their eyes trained on their project.

There were grooves all the way around its semi-triangular circumference, and marks at one of its round corners. They dug their nails into the groove and pulled. There was no more damage they could do to the watch, it was already broken, but they didn't have the force they needed to get it apart without hurting themself.

Before fishing in their desk drawer for a knife to pry open the watch, they called again. "Emmett?"

They glanced up from their desk, and their eyes grew wide at the face just inches from theirs. That was _definitely_ not their roommate. They sat in stunned silence. The feeling of warmth against their lips registered well after the kiss was broken.

" _Knock_ , idiot!" Morgan exclaimed.

Azusa flashed them a devilish smile. "Your roommate is out."

"You're still supposed to knock," Morgan huffed. "Why are you here?"

Azusa leaned in for another kiss, and they met him halfway. He cast his uniform cloak over Morgan.

"Hey! What was that for?" Morgan grabbed at the fabric, pulling on it until they found open air.

Azusa wasn't in front of them anymore. They twisted farther around to find him sinking into their bed and examining the cat plush beside him with distaste. "Randy actually gave it to you?" he muttered.

Morgan shoved the cloak under their desk and leaned over the back of their chair. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"He's experimenting with that wad of cotton again," Azusa said. "Something obnoxious; I didn't ask for details."

"Fair enough."

Morgan turned back to their work in progress, but before a knife, they reached first for the small, half-full bottle of konpeito. They poured a few candies into their palm, picking out a counted number of them and lining them up on the desk. The rest, Morgan funneled back down the neck of the bottle. After popping the first candy in line into their mouth, they dug out the knife they needed.

The back of the watch snapped off with some effort. Though they didn't have a key to wind it, fifty lune still sounded altogether too much like a steal for such a simple fix. They angled the watch this way and that, peering into the cracks between the cogs.

"Ah, there's no mainspring," Morgan remarked. "Maybe if it had a magic spring..." Ideally, when they were done with it, the pocket watch would measure time without ever needing to be wound again.

They picked up another piece of konpeito.

"Are you only eating the white ones?"

Their head sinking between their shoulders, Morgan glanced sheepishly to the unusually well-behaved intruder in their bed. They had almost forgotten about him, but there he was, sitting up with the cat plush in his lap, and staring pointedly back. Morgan turned away again before Azusa could get a good look at the pink invading their features.

"Or did you eat all the colored ones first?"

Morgan slid the small bottle of konpeito out of Azusa's line of sight.

"I just gave you that bottle yesterday. You haven't eaten that many of them already, have you?"

Morgan shook their head.

"Then where are they?"

Morgan turned about in their chair, looking at anything but Azusa, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the end table beside their bed. Its one, shallow drawer couldn't hold much, but it could hold enough. Azusa crawled to the edge of the bed, cat plush abandoned, and pulled out a second bottle of konpeito - the missing colored candies.

"I don't want to eat them," Morgan confessed.

Azusa frowned. "Why?"

"They're pretty."

"I guess," he said. "But so are paper stars, stupid. You could fill a bottle with those instead."

Morgan buried their face in their hands. "I don't know how to make stars."

"I'll show you," he said. "I'm sure even a goof like you could get the hang of it."


	4. Embers of Affection

It started with a kiss, another night shared against dormitory regulations. While Randy was out researching nocturnal flora, Morgan resisted the hand cupping their nape, brushing noses with Azusa while they caught their breath. Their lips traveled to his cheek, and jaw, and nipped at his throat.

At the pinching feeling, Azusa released them. A chill crept across their nape. "You're awfully bold tonight." His serpentine smirk had yet to make an appearance, and the weary crease in his brow deepened.

Morgan sat back, tucking their legs snugly against his figure beneath them. They swallowed the quirk of a smile attempting to surface.

His advances lacked their usual vigor. His kisses weren't without love, but they were the embers of his affection. There was no flame in his touch. The mild comfort stirred something within them.

Their fingers traced inside the v of his shirt, teasing the visible sliver of his chest and lingering where the folds came together.

"If there's something you want, you're going to have to tell me what it is." Azusa loosely encircled them in his arms.

Morgan withdrew their touch. They sank against his hold, a shudder escaping on their breath. "'Kay."

There was a moment of hesitation still before they took action. Lifting their arms above their head, they grasped the collar of their shirt and shed the garment in one smooth motion.

As it settled beside them, Azusa's hold was gone. Eyes wide, jaw hanging open, he was propped up on his arms and searching for answers.

They summoned a smile for him.

He pulled out from beneath them far enough to sit. Morgan fell into his lap instead, fixed on the garment and the contrast of the warmth flickering from his figure and the cool air at their back.

 _Did you know?_

Azusa nodded, their whisper heard.

 _Is this okay?_

His hands were hot on their waist. They dared a glance. The weary crease was gone. The fire crackled brightly in his eyes, his tongue a lick of flame as their mouths met again. Stifled laughter, the rush of relief, spilled from them as he rolled forward and lay them back beneath him. His mouth trailed away from theirs, his hands climbing, both seeking skin he had never been allowed to set aflame with his touch.

"Slow down-"

"I'm not stopping."

"I don't want you to stop," Morgan assured.

Azusa propped himself up above them. He cupped Morgan's face instead, thumbs brushing their cheeks, the corners of their lips. He was smiling, broadly, infectiously. The moment their expression mirrored his, he pressed his lips to theirs. Once. Twice. Too many times to count.


	5. Reassurance

Azusa returned from his shower, half-clothed and hair dripping wet. He raised a brow at the figure huddled against his pillows and toes tucked beneath the tousled sheets. "You're still here?" he asked, accusation coloring his words.

Morgan popped open their newly functioning trinket, a pocket watch with a magic mainspring, and glanced briefly at what it told them. "I have twenty minutes."

"You have five minutes, at most," Azusa corrected. "You should have left already. Your blond _beau_ would rather you show up early than keep him waiting."

It was sound in theory, but it failed to remove them from his bed. They sunk deeper into the pillows behind them. As if to staunch the flow of time, they clutched the pocket watch to their chest.

Azusa rolled his eyes and toweled his hair dry. He dug out a shirt and pulled it over himself - slowly, an eye cast over his shoulder to see if he had an audience. He did not. He stepped broadly around the bed and slid up next to them. "It's one little chat a month," he said.

"I know," Morgan muttered.

He turned to face them squarely, hands on their ankles. "It lasts, what, ten minutes?"

"He sets aside an hour," Morgan corrected.

Azusa's hands glided the length of their calves, resting instead on their knees. "It never takes that long. Just go, get it over with."

His words were met with silence. Stillness.

"You're out of time." He reached into the tangles of green to the face hidden beneath, met with wetness on their cheeks. His hands froze. He found himself mired in silence, too.

The pocketwatch softly counted the seconds as they passed. The longer it went on, the louder it echoed between them.

"I don't want to go."

Azusa nodded. He reached beyond the tangles and teary cheeks and wrapped them in his arms. "I know."

"I hate him."

Azusa pressed his lips to the top of their head. "No, you don't."

"He wants me to break up with you."

"Morgan-"

"He wants me to hate you."

Azusa pulled back, gripping their shoulders and peering into the mess of green until the gray of their eyes dared to meet his. "Of course he does. I _hurt_ you."

Morgan's jaw twitched with words unspoken, their resolute stare holding him back firmly enough that his hands fell to his sides.

"I did things that I can't take back," Azusa said. "This is his way to make sure that you are safe."


	6. The Sweetest

Azusa leaned against the wall outside of the prefect's office. He drummed his fingers on the stone at his back and had tuned out the discussion in progress. It was little more than a formality at this point anyway.

The tone of the conversation within, however, had shifted. If it was over already, the meetings were getting shorter. Maybe soon Morgan wouldn't have to bother anymore.

It was an off-hand remark that caught Azusa's attention then. "You know, I still don't know what draws you to him, cabbage patch."

Outside of the room, Azusa clucked his tongue.

Inside, Morgan's voice moved closer to the door. "I just can't help myself," they said. "He has the sweetest butt I've ever touched."

Azusa stared at the door.

"Is that all?" Klaus drawled.

There was silence. Filled with the trickle of Klaus pouring himself a cup of tea.

Then, quietly, "I said that out loud."

"You did," Klaus confirmed.

The door opened and closed hastily. Morgan stood against it, looking more like a tomato than cabbage from where Azusa was standing. They glanced his way.

He grinned back at them.

And watched them bury their face in their hands.


	7. I Love You

Note: I know this one is a bit _too_ brief, lol some of them are, but it's important to me for what it is and what inspired it.

* * *

Though he strained to hear them, the words were distinct. "I love you." Morgan wasn't looking his way. Absorbed in folding tiny strips of paper, they didn't seem to be paying him any mind at all from the desk adjacent to his.

"You'll have to speak up, stupid," Azusa commented, studying them more intently than the class notes in front of him.

The folding stopped. Morgan looked up, craning their neck to meet him eye-to-eye. Their voice still soft, they repeated, "I said I love you."

"To your paper stars?" Azusa jeered.

Morgan frowned. "To you."

The humor drained from his features and he looked away, finding sudden interest in the surface of his desk, the chips of wear and the etchings of students long-graduated peeking out from beneath his homework.

Morgan reached for another paper strip and continued folding.

Azusa rolled his pen between the thumb and forefinger of both hands, his tongue flicking to wet his lips. "Where did that come from?"

"Klaus asked me how I felt about you," Morgan said, dropping another star into a bottle that had once been filled with konpeito.

Azusa swallowed the knot in his throat. "What did you tell him?"

"That he's not the one who needs to hear it."


	8. Mr Gedonelune

It was the squealing of the masses that had Azusa tucked behind his buddy and lover of nearly a year, blue collar upturned to hide what he could of the back of his head. Posters decked the halls of Gedonelune Academy, sporting the faces of the nominees for a certain Mr. Gedonelune event, and booths filled the courtyard. Students of the academy were encouraged to vote for their favorite, and, of course, to buy additional votes with novelties that sent a chill down his spine.

"Why are we here?" he whispered harshly, dipping closer and features souring further at a poster bearing his likeness.

Morgan glanced over their shoulder, smiling to his scowl. "You didn't have to come."

Azusa muttered under his breath. Of course they were in line for this damned thing. Somewhere in the distance, his cotton candy roommate was handing out magical treats beside one of the novelty booths. The smaller Goldstein was trapped, beet red, beneath the arm of that green-haired delinquent who was basking in the attention. Most of the faces on the posters, however, were not lurking among the crowd.

While his attention was on the masses, Morgan reached the front of the line. They filled their slip and dropped it in the box, humming happily.

The bubbly girl behind the table leaned forward. "Just between you and me, who did you vote for?"

Azusa frowned in distaste at her sunshine yellow jumper. Morgan would wear something like that if he didn't intervene.

"Azusa~" Morgan replied.

His attention snapped to them. "What?"

The girl behind the booth gasped, hands covering her mouth but a smile breaching that cover all the same. She stood eagerly from her seat and offered him a hand. "Congratulations on your nomination, Azusa!"

Azusa's expression went blank.

Around them, there was silence. Murmurs soon filled it with his name.

He grit his teeth and smiled politely, accepting the proffered hand. "Thank you."

"It is him!" echoed a shrill cry nearby.

The screaming intensified. The lines distorted as eager voters crowded around. Azusa grabbed Morgan by the arm and pit them between him and the girls.

"What?" Morgan asked, grinning. "Aren't you gonna greet your fans?"

Azusa dug his nails into their arm, smiling sweetly against their ear. "This is your fault. Get me out of here."

"But I haven't bought a poster yet," Morgan whined.

"You don't need a poster." With the table at his back, and girls covering every other angle, there was no easy way out.

Azusa blinked at the sudden weathered-white and red haze, too close to see clearly. He leaned back over the table and snatched the offending leaflet from Morgan's grasp.

"Will this help?" they asked.

Azusa glanced at the worn paper doll, at his own faded handwriting, and kissed the shikigami without hesitation. In the following puff of smoke, he ducked beneath the table. Thank goodness it still worked.

"Have fun!" Morgan cheered, heartily slapping the shikigami on the back and driving it into the bewildered crowd. A smile danced across its features, far more genuine than Azusa's own had been. Happy, perhaps, to have seen use again.

While it stole the spotlight, Azusa crawled out from beneath the opposite side of the table. The girl in the yellow jumper caught sight of him. He hurriedly put a finger to his lips. She smiled warmly and returned her attention to the copy.

The shikigami walked straight ahead. "Ladies, please, you're too kind," it said. "But this is not an appropriate place to gather. Shall we head to the gardens?" In no time at all, it had led them away from the voting tables, allowing the lines to reform and order to resume among fans of the other nominees.

Azusa walked behind the tables to the last. When he no longer had that cover, he ran. Into the school, through the halls, and well out of sight of anyone who might have cared who he was in the midst of this arbitrary popularity contest. It was easier to flee into the school than to the dorms, but now he was left without a destination. Without a place to hide.

This part of the school was more intimately familiar than he cared to admit as he made his way to one particular door. He knocked. When he was met with no reply, he tried the door knob. Locked.

Giggles echoed from the depths of the halls of the academy.

"Goldstein," he hissed. "If you're in there, open the door."

There was no answer. The giggles drew nearer, colored with conversation of the vote.

"Klaus, please!"

The solid clunk of the bolt lock retracting sounded before him, and the door cracked open. Klaus glanced at Azusa, then down either side of the otherwise empty hall, and opened the door just enough for him to slip inside.

With the lock bolted once more, Klaus turned to his company, grinning wryly. "How are you enjoying the event?"

Azusa leveled a glare at him. "I can't believe you approved this."

"I didn't," Klaus assured, nudging his reading glasses back up his nose. "They went directly to Headmaster Randolph – who, by the way, has updated me on the current standings."

Azusa glanced out the office window at the chaos below while Klaus collected documents from his desk. The prefect offered them to Azusa for perusal.

"You're in the lead," Azusa remarked.

Klaus nodded. "I haven't been this popular in years."

Azusa handed back the report, smirking devilishly. "I do not envy you."

"In any case, it'll be a while before things calm down out there," Klaus said. "Tea?"


	9. Photograph

Azusa dragged the feather toy left, right, to the floor and then the arm of the couch. The older of their cats looked on from the opposite arm with mild curiosity, but the younger cat dashed from one point to the next to the last.

"Gotcha!" Azusa declared, dropping the toy and scooping the cat up in his arms.

Decibel squirmed, wide eyes still following the fall of the toy, as Azusa sank into the couch and nuzzled his face against her fur.

 _Click._

Azusa glared at the mouth of the hallway, the source of the sound, and lowered the cat to his lap. Decibel bounded out of his arms as his hold faltered and scampered after the feather toy.

"I fixed it," Morgan declared proudly, camera in hand. They left it to hang on a strap around their neck while they waited for the photo to develop.

"Warn me when you're gonna do that!" Azusa grumbled.

"And miss this?" Morgan gestured vaguely to the cats, giggling.

Azusa grew red, lunging out of his seat and down the hall. Morgan dashed into the master bedroom at the far end and slammed the door behind them, shutting him out. Azusa huffed, doing his best to scowl through the door.

He leaned up against it and cooed softly. "Morgan."

They didn't answer. The giggling had stopped.

"Morgan, let me in, dear," he tried again through grit teeth, he turned the knob and leaned against the door. They had to be standing against it; his leaning did nothing to move it.

 _Globus flau._ The words were so quiet, he wasn't sure he had heard them at all.

"I'm coming in." He shoved this time. The door swung inward without resistance and he stumbled into the bedroom. Morgan was tucking their wand away. Azusa reached for their hands, both of them empty, but the thumb and index finger of one hand blackened.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"It didn't turn out," Morgan replied, putting on a smile. If not the ash, then the smell of smoke should have given it away.

"I wasn't _that_ mad-" Azusa sighed, and amended, "I _wasn't_ mad, stupid."

"It's okay," Morgan said, staring fixedly at the butterfly charm he wore. "Not supposed to shake these things, they don't turn out right."

Azusa released their hands, cupping their cheeks instead and tilting their head back to meet them eye-to-eye. The smile was gone, their features ashen. "The camera didn't work, did it?"

Morgan curled their hands around his, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Not the way I thought it would."


	10. Culpability

Note: the cats's names are Shylo and Decibel (lol Desu). Should have mentioned that in Photograph, and content warning for animal death (not pet death; and not dark magic, but letting you know all the same).

* * *

It was sunny and warm, the windows and doors all wide open to let it in. The window above the wash basin gave only a glimpse of the pleasant afternoon. Azusa glared at the pile of dishes before him. The alternative to housework, however, was grocery shopping. The thought of small talk with the townsfolk made his skin crawl, and he rolled up his sleeves in resignation.

Nearly half of the dishes were done when he felt a weight brush against his leg. He glanced down at the offender, a long-haired black tabby. "Shylo," he said, one of the two cats Morgan had insisted they adopt. The other cat was nowhere in sight. He resumed washing without paying Shylo any further mind.

As he was setting the last pot aside to dry, a chill crawled along his nape. He glanced back to find Shylo staring at him. "What?" he muttered. "Go play with Desu."

 _Meow._

"Stupid cat." It continued to stare, and Azusa decided pointedly to ignore it.

He stepped around Shylo in search of a broom.

 _Mrrrow!_

The cat followed him, all the way to the small closet in the hall, stopping only when Azusa gave up ignoring it. " _What?_ " he hissed back, leaning on the procured broom's handle.

 _Meow._

Azusa huffed. The water dish was half-full. The cats were fed that morning and would be fed again _after_ dinner. He had nothing that smelled of fish or cream or anything else cats gravitated to. He rolled his eyes at the cat and set to sweeping.

As he worked his way up from the backmost hallway, forward through the kitchen, Shylo sat between the kitchen and livingroom. The cat's eyes continued to follow Azusa's motions.

"What is your problem?" he spat.

Shylo sauntered down the open hallway between the livingroom and kitchen. Azusa took his sweet time sweeping to the place where the cat had disappeared. He glanced down the hall after Shylo, and his blood ran cold. Azusa's lips pursed, his mouth dry and no words on his tongue.

Shylo sat proudly by a bird on the welcome mat, one of its wings bent the wrong way, its feathers spotted red, lifeless.

A murky wave of aura rippled around the onmyoji, lapping coldly at the angles of his figure. He lifted his hand to the air, the broom forgotten and hitting the ground with an echoing _clack._ The sound was masked behind a steady ringing growing louder between his ears.

Shylo bristled at the ominous aura, slinking back and out through the open door.

"What have you done!" Azusa screamed after the cat. He had begun to give chase, but stopped dead at the mat. He had gotten too close. He stared at the bird, running his trembling fingers through his hair and squeezing at his nape.

It didn't matter how hard his heart rattled his ribs, he could hear nothing but the ringing in his ears. He let go, tracing the ghosts of letters in the air with one hand and grasping at his chest with the other. He cast a glance at his shadow. He saw nothing, but he could feel a faint magical aura drawing near.

He remained poised to attack. A cold sweat crawled down his back, a shiver in its wake, as he awaited the face behind the aura. The second its shadow crossed before the door, Azusa set to scrawling letters in the air before him.

With a startled gasp, the figure lunged forward and seized him by the wrists.

He wrenched free. Unrelenting, they grabbed at him time and again until words pierced through the ringing in his ears.

"Azusa, _stop!_ "

He swallowed at the sandpaper texture of his tongue, resisting the pull in their grasp.

"Stop," they insisted. "Stop." Each one quieter than the last.

Azusa froze.

 _A kotodama?_

The ringing subsided as he strained to hear each repetition. The murky aura around him ebbed, and he distinguish from their silhouette the messy green bob and the storm in their eyes. He lowered his arms.

"Morgan," he choked.

His wrists burned against the warmth of their palms.

"What happened?" they asked.

"It wasn't me."

His ghastly features reflected in their resolute stare. "Tell me what happened."

Azusa flinched. "I didn't kill it!"

Morgan's eyes widened, their grip redoubling. "Kill _what_?"

Azusa's gaze dropped to the welcome mat, to the tiny corpse between them. Morgan's followed.

"Oh."

Azusa's attention snapped back to Morgan. Their hold on his wrists eased until they had released him altogether, and as it left him he felt yearning for the heat of their touch.

Morgan glanced back to Azusa, meeting him eye-to-eye. "Shylo?"

"He's done this before?"

Morgan nodded. "It's a cat thing."

Azusa's shoulders sagged. He lowered his gaze.

"It's okay, Azusa," Morgan said, tentatively reaching out to console him.

But it wasn't okay. There was a dead bird on the floor. The grocery bags were abandoned on the deck, their contents scattered. The sun's light glistened on tear tracks on Morgan's cheeks.

When all Azusa did was stare at nothing, Morgan withdrew their outstretched arms. "It's okay now," they murmured inwardly. They glanced back to the food on the deck with a sigh.

Azusa bent forward and pulled Morgan against him in embrace, their gasp of surprise stifled against his chest. He held on in earnest until Morgan's arms wrapped around his waist.

Their voice muffled against him, they asked, "Are you okay?"

"How could you say that?" Azusa breathed. "What about you? I could have hurt you."

* * *

It was a hot shudder that woke Morgan that night - not the emptiness on the other half of the bed, but the blankets tucked close to their shoulders and the small white-toed ball of fur at the end of the bed.

"Azusa?" Morgan mumbled into their pillow.

There was no answer.

Morgan pulled their legs from the confines of the covers, careful not to disturb Decibel's sleep, and crawled out of bed. Easing open their bedroom door, they shuffled into the hall and towards the kitchen. All of the lights were out, except one. Through the screen door, Morgan caught sight of Azusa's bare torso slumped on the deck under that one light.

Morgan leaned against the wall, arms folded across their chest and eyes half-closed, and waited. Azusa seemed keenly aware of their aura, surely he would notice them soon.

A sharp sniff came from the direction of the deck, followed by a shake of a tin full of cat treats.

"Come on, you stupid cat," Azusa muttered bleakly. "Come home already."


End file.
